


Exhibition of the Defected

by FallenStar22



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends, Friendship, Gen, Gryffindor, Partnership, Platonic Relationships, Post - Deathly Hallows, Post-Hogwarts, Slytherin, The Golden Trio Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenStar22/pseuds/FallenStar22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to the Exhibition of the Defected, where the Slytherins have no choice but to 'defect' to the 'light' and be paraded in the public eye. An uneasy Gryffindor/Slytherin alliance is formed by Shacklebolt in order to draw society together again and prevent the divide being socialised into the next generation.<br/>“Will you be willing to undergo rehabilitation and then integrate yourself into the Wizarding society with the morals and values that we want to rebuild our society with?”<br/>"I will be willing to do whatever it takes it reassure the safety of me and my family."<br/>"Do we have a choice? I just wanted to know whether we were the Ministry's new puppets."<br/>Immediately post-war. TN/DG but not a relationship-centric fic.<br/>-<br/><i>"To judge someone at the age of 11, to judge them, to set their future course so young, seems to me to be a very harsh thing to do. And it doesn't take into account the fact that we do change and evolve. A lot of people are, at 40, what they weren't at 11." - Joanne Rowling in MN/TLC chat. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> To any new readers, this is a rewrite of a story I began posting on ff.net. I have been writing this story as it comes to me and am writing without purposely aiming for the epilogue, so if you’re looking for something that will be strictly epilogue compliant, this may not be it. My intention with this piece is to explore the underdeveloped characters from Slytherin and experiment with a multi-character focus story. In order to make this as realistic as possible and explore human psychology, the notion of good and evil characters has been abolished. This deviates from the canon in the sense that epic fantasy stories generally have good and evil characters, eg. Harry and Voldemort. Hope you enjoy it!

“To judge someone at the age of 11, to judge them, to set their future course so young, seems to me to be a very harsh thing to do. And it doesn't take into account the fact that we do change and evolve. A lot of people are, at 40, what they weren't at 11.”  
\- **Joanne Rowling in MN/TLC chat.**

 

# Defected

 

##### Part 1: The Interview

_Interview 41, Day 3, 10:47pm, Friday 8th May 1998_

To walk into a room of teenagers after facing the Death Eaters that had terrorised the safety of the Wizarding World should be easy as Alohomora. Kingsley Shacklebolt didn’t think it would be particularly hard to interview a group of children after the day he had faced, especially as they were a new, pliant generation, but upon walking into the room and seeing eight young men and women staring unnervingly at him as he entered, he realised that for all his Auror training, for all his experience in working with madmen, he couldn’t discern what they were thinking about him.

With hardened jaws sat Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, looking imposing despite being seated and looking older than he realised they actually were. They were adults now and that thought scared Shacklebolt. He wasn’t an ignorant man but his tired mind was surprised. He wouldn’t be able to play on children’s trustworthiness. What did you expect, he thought to himself, toddlers? Even without wands these children were taught evil things by their families.

Those evil things had broken Gregory Goyle, who was looking blankly at the peeling paint on the wall with no indication he had heard someone enter the room. Tracey Davis, Millicent Bulstrode and Daphne Greengrass had expressions just as blank and unrevealing, giving Shacklebolt no indication of their mood or current state of mind. Shacklebolt could read people, it was part of his job, but those in front of him presented no threat he was familiar with, yet he knew there was more to them than their passivity.

The initial plan was to interview them all separately, but these were the last of the interviews that Shacklebolt had to do and he just wanted it to end. The sickening things that spewed out of the Death Eaters’ mouths were foul and perverted any innocence the war had left. These interviews were supposed to determine those who may be rehabilitated and those deserving Azkaban. Most of the major Death Eaters Shacklebolt had interviewed over the last three days fell into the latter category, but these kids were only here because they either were children of major Death Eaters or had a role in the war. Arthur Weasley did have some concerns about bringing in those Slytherins who did not fall under the two categories specified above, but Shacklebolt believed it best to include all of those in the ‘dark’ house. Malfoy and Parkinson had openly proved themselves sympathisers at one point and that cast them all under suspicion, especially as Slytherins were known to be cunning.

Shacklebolt cleared his throat and cast a weary gaze over the seventeen and eighteen year olds. It was effort for him to don his harsh, interviewer persona again. “Are any of you sympathisers of Voldemort or his cause?” He expected them to visibly react, but asides from well concealed flinches none seemed willing to answer. He knew it was a long shot, but it took even less than that for the Lestrange brothers to start their pro-Voldemort rants.

He decided to go for something a little less severe. “What are your opinions on Muggles?”

There seemed to be some silent conferring between Zabini, Malfoy and Nott that allowed Zabini to speak as he answered, “They live outside our world without magic. We are distant to them in the same way we are close to each other.” The others now looked up as if agreeing with what Zabini said.

Shacklebolt nodded slightly to encourage talking, but Zabini didn’t say any more, managing to dodge the question. “What about Muggleborns?” There was nothing distant about people they went to school with.

This time Nott gave Malfoy a look and he answered for the group, “They,” he took a moment to compose his answer, “Have different customs to us.”

“Customs?”

Malfoy replied without hesitation this time. “Different cultures have different customs.” There was an unnatural and unnerving feel to the way their responses.

“Of course,” he replied calmly, “Just like other witches and wizards do from other countries. Tell me, Mr Malfoy, do those customs affect the way you behave to them?”

Malfoy’s jaw hardened, mostly likely from being cornered into answered the question he dodged earlier. “I act with my customs. If their customs do not match…”

Then you kill them. “Are you saying you are acting with the customs instilled in you by Death Eaters?” It was a leading question really, but Kingsley wanted to wrap this up and go to sleep.

“No,” he replied curtly and quickly.

“Then what customs are you acting with, Mr Malfoy?” His voice was hard and Kingsley had been so focussed on getting an answer from Malfoy he was taken aback by the calm and collected voice that came from his right to answer him.

“If I may interject,” said Daphne Greengrass, “We have been brought up to believe these values are correct and any others are wrong. You forget we have been living under the rules of our ancestors, rules that we are expected to obey without question. To disobey would mean to be disowned from our family, the only people we know, with no means of supporting ourselves. The war has only just finished; that has not allowed sufficient time to revaluate our customs and decide our own.” It was a very refined speech from the blonde girl and her manner was polite and respectful; a change from the defensive tones Kingsley had heard throughout the day.

“Can I understand from that, Miss Greengrass, that you are willing to change your customs and values?” Kingsley was surprised that the outcome he had been hoping for had sprung up out of nowhere.

She hesitated in answering, perhaps regretting having spoken at all. “I will revaluate them, yes.” She had left out the doubt of whether they’d match what Shacklebolt wanted them to be and because of it, her answer lacked the assurance that Kingsley needed.

Frustrated with the loaded questions, Malfoy blurted out, “What do you really want from us? What was the point of bringing us all here? Most of this lot haven’t even done anything. Their parents aren’t even Death Eaters.”

If Shacklebolt was fazed by the direct question then he did not show it. In normal circumstances, he would not dream of actually answering the question, but he was exhausted and his brain was not thinking properly. “Mr Malfoy, what I want is to go home and to wake up tomorrow to find things the way they were before the war. But I know that will never be the case, and I’m the one in charge of clearing up this mess. Believe it or not, not all Gryffindors have a hero complex; we simply adopt it when we have no other choice.” He sighed heavily as he realised how misled students were by the housing system. What he did not realise, however, was that he too, was also, if not more, misled than the children were.

Malfoy, however, did. “Believe it or not, not all Slytherins want to start another war.” He mimicked, once again, throwing Shacklebolt. “Once again I ask: why are we here?” Some of the confidence had returned to his voice and his previous drawl had started to come through. Shacklebolt began to feel like the interviewee rather than the interviewer.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before managing to make sound. “Rehabilitation. And reintegration into society.”

Both Draco and Nott raised their eyebrows; Nott in surprise and Malfoy challenging the statement he made.

“You would do that?” asked Tracey Davis, lifting up her head. Besides Greengrass, the girls had not participated much to the discussion, fitting the role of future pureblooded wives.

“He wouldn’t do that.” barked Zabini sardonically.

“I would.” countered Shacklebolt evenly.

Even though Shacklebolt betrayed no outward hesitations in his statement, after glancing towards Nott, Greengrass enquired, “For all of us?”

Shacklebolt faltered but replied smoothly, “For those willing to undergo therapy and adopt the morals and values we wish to rebuild our society with.” This was the line he had hoped to deliver for three days but had not been able to. As the acting Minister of Magic, he had been designated the most harsh offenders to interview while Arthur and a few others had interviewed anyone vaguely related to the cause. This was the line that would begin the rehabilitation project.

“I do.” spoke out Tracey Davis unexpectedly. “I don’t care what you guys say, I’m fed up with this. I want to be able to talk to the other side of my family again without being cut out by the rest of my family.” She lowered her head, perhaps to hide the teary eyes caused by the catharsis of releasing her personal issues.

“Can I assume you will be willing to undergo therapy and then integrate yourself into the Wizarding society with the morals and values that we want to rebuild our society with?”

Tracey nodded, hesitantly at first, but then gaining confidence as she realised that she would not have to go back to the state of life she was in before.

Shacklebolt sensed that the frown of Daphne’s face was one of deliberation rather than disapproval and prompted her gently. “Miss Greengrass?”

Daphne spoke very carefully, “What exactly does this ‘therapy’ and ‘rehabilitation’ entail?”

Most people would assume that anyone in their position would jump at the chance to live a normal life again, but all those in the room knew that the Ministry was in a state and had no clue what to do with a bunch of teenagers who, other than one, had done nothing wrong but be sorted into a house associated with evil.

Kingsley didn’t want to scare them off, but he knew that in order to get them to agree with his plan he would have to tell them it. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to have bright kids in their next generation.

He began explaining his idea cautiously, not wanting to divulge too much. “What are your relationships with Harry Potter and his friends?”

A general uneasiness fell across the group. A few warning glances fell on Parkinson, but she remained still, with her posture erect and defensive.

It was exactly what he feared would happen; they all had closed off and if they didn’t agree then Kingsley would have to think of another plan to rebuild their broken society. “From your silence I grant that your opinions on them are not positive?”

Nott spoke out brazenly this time, without those secretive glances to his housemates. “Not all of us hated them, if that’s what you were thinking. Yeah, Weasley was an idiot, Potter got away with things we would have been expelled for but Granger made an okay Ancient Runes partner when she wasn’t being a stuck up know-it-all. We’re Slytherins. We’re used to Gryffindors getting all the glory while we get all the blame. I guess it’s what we have to bear for producing a dark wizard every century or so.” His expression remained impassive but the other Slytherins could see his unspoken resentment.

Shacklebolt was surprised at his openness to say the least. It was the most amount of sane opinion he had heard in the last three days of conversations.

“And are you all of that opinion?” asked Shacklebolt hopefully. He did not wish to think badly of all them.

Daphne Greengrass openly nodded while Davis caught onto her housemate’s nod and joined it with her own. Millicent Bulstrode looked away when Shacklebolt came to her, as did Pansy Parkinson. Blaise gave some sort of agreement while the other two boys did not give any indication. Malfoy would be questioned later, but it was Parkinson he was concerned about now.

“Do you regret any decisions you made regarding them? Miss Parkinson?”

Parkinson shot him a sharp glare. “I stand by the decision I made.” Her stance was even more defiant than it had been earlier.

“Pansy, shut up,” muttered Malfoy from next to her. Zabini gave her a small shake of the head. Greengrass’ hands were gesturing to keep down.

“Do you now?” countered Shacklebolt.

She gazed at him coolly, “Potter ran towards the Dark Lord willingly. He wanted to go to him. If we’d only done what he wanted to do, but simply earlier, then more lives would have been saved.”

There was a stunned silence in the room. Parkinson may have been loud, but she had never spoken about her role in the war. Surprisingly, her logic did make some sense, even if it was a product of hindsight and self-preservation.

“That was a very Gryffindor-like statement to say Miss Parkinson."

Parkinson frowned at being compared to a Gryffindor and looked at Shacklebolt distrustfully. “It’s not a Gryffindor thing to say. It’s what anyone would say if they’d lost a friend. You’re not the only side to have lost friends.”

Shacklebolt had the decency to look guilty; it was easy to forget that war left innocent casualties on both sides.

“I apologise.” He meant it sincerely but the Slytherins’ cold exterior made it hard for him to empathise. “Does this mean you’ll do something to prevent another war?”

Parkinson’s face twisted into a scowl and she spat out, “I didn’t wish to cause one any more than you did.”

Kingsley maintained his composure, practised at having interviewees break apart in front of him, “So it would seem we are on the same page Miss Parkinson.” He took a pile of parchments out from a folder and handed them round to the group. “This is a contract that states that if you cooperate and agree to therapy and rehabilitation then you will be under Ministry protection.”

“And if we don’t agree?” drawled Nott.

The hope Shacklebolt had been feeling vanished. “House arrest. Without wands.” It may have been a drastic punishment, but he was using it as a blackmail to get them to cooperate; at least it wasn’t Azkaban. He wouldn’t follow it through with any of them other than Malfoy.

It was the quiet Tracy Davis that ventured to speak. “Even though we did nothing? I have nothing against Muggles, Mr Shacklebolt, half of my family is Muggle.”

Kingsley was taken aback by finding out that Davis was a half-blood, and even after hearing she had family issues he didn’t think it would be due to blood. He had checked their files for their names and any other information he should know, but he hadn’t checked the blood status section because he assumed they were all Pureblood.

“Then it shouldn’t be an issue for you to cooperate, should it, Miss Davis?”

She nodded tentatively and gave her confirmation.

He looked round next at Pansy and addressed the question to her. “Will you be willing to undergo rehabilitation and then integrate yourself into the Wizarding society with the morals and values that we want to rebuild our society with?”

Pansy was dubious at first about the conditions and morals she was accepting, but then at eighteen, the only values she had were the dated ones passed down by her family – the ones that caused so much death and destruction. “I will be willing to do whatever it takes it reassure the safety of me and my family.”

Shacklebolt nodded in acknowledgement and allowed a small smile to grace his face. Perhaps it would not be so bad after all.

Pansy added quietly to herself, “That’s all we’ve been doing for our whole lives.”

The smile slipped off the Minister’s face; this would not be as easy as he had thought, it was too far rooted.

He asked the remaining as a group, hoping they would follow their housemates’ decisions.

“Do we have a choice?” asked Nott brazenly.

Shacklebolt feared this question. There was no way he could send children to Azkaban, but then he could not let them loose in a society they hated. It would be irresponsible and could possibly cause an uprising.

“What would you like to choose between?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to know whether we were the Ministry’s new puppets.” The bitterness that was not visible before was starting to seep out.

“Mr Nott, does this mean we will have your cooperation or not?”

“It’s a childhood dream to become friends with the Gryffindorks so why not?” His tone was light hearted but coupled with the unusual choice of words, Shacklebolt struggled to figure this boy out. He would definitely be one of the first to see the psychologist.

“I need you all to sign this contract. It declares that we will do all we can to ensure your protection as long as you agree to meetings with the therapist and to more interviews if needed. We can also provide you with accommodation if necessary. However, the only thing I ask is that if you would like to leave either your house or the provided accommodations, you do so accompanied by an Auror.”

To his surprise, none of the Slytherins contradicted his offer. “Are you okay with that?”

“Of course we are,” replied Zabini, “We’re not fools, there are still people out there that want to kill us. Any protection is gladly welcomed. We’ll take your offer Shacklebolt as long as we aren’t abused by it.”

One by one they signed the contract that Shacklebolt offered them; some feeling constrained, others feeling like they had signed the form of their release.

 

\--O-O--

##### Part 2: Kingsley’s Speech

_Some days later, Tuesday 12th May 1998_

Everyone dreams of being Minister of Magic at some point in their lives if they have an interest in politics, and Kingsley had never imagined his first speech to his people would be like this. Every person standing in front of him was harmed in some way during the war and it reflected in the faces in front of him. People looked tired and empty and there were gaps in the crowds for their missing family. It was not a sight Kingsley wished to see. There was so much hurt and Kingsley couldn’t do a goddamn thing about it because it was irreversible. You couldn’t bring people back to life and you couldn’t expect people to go back to the lives they used to live when nothing was the same any more.

As Kingsley cast a weary gaze over the mass of people huddled in the rebuilt Atrium, he was just aware of how many people were relying on him to make this time around better. To heal the wound the war caused, and sew it up tight enough to stop the stuffing of society from falling out. It wasn’t just a case of the deluded and power hungry following a cause initiated by a madman, there was a divide socialised into society. It was that wall that needed to be broken.

“Thank you all for taking time to come here today.” He swallowed heavily. “I appreciate that we need time to grieve as individuals, but as acting Minister of Magic, I felt it was important to bring you all together and assure you that I will try my utmost hardest to make the Wizarding World a safe place to live in. I know words will mean little to some, but hopefully the actions I take will help rebuild security and trust in our society. I believe the best way to do this is to come together as a community and rebuild the future as we want it to be, as our families would want it to be. We can change the future for our children - we can make sure they don’t have to go through what we did.”

Kingsley breathed heavily before beginning the part that he knew would be met with the most resistance, “Which is why we need to bring together every aspect of our society until ‘they’ becomes a ‘we’. I know many people here wish to cut ties with anyone involved on the other side of the war, but that would be like cutting off an arm of our society. We need to heal this wound in us and stand together as a united front. I ask everyone here to welcome those who are being rehabilitated back into society in order to prevent a further divide between blood groups.”

Muttering had broken out at his last sentence, just as Kingsley knew it would. Simply saying it would not help. People were convinced they were not the ones at fault, yet when tested, most of them would fail to not discriminate. He thought back to the interviews he himself had conducted with leading questions. Sometimes, the only thing that could convince people was proof.

“I want to talk about James and Lily Potter. They were betrayed by one of their most trusted friends - Peter Pettigrew - a Gryffindor. Not all Gryffindors are good and not all dark wizards come from Slytherin. To blame them exclusively would be excusing people like Pettigrew who can hide under this mask of prejudice. Likewise, not all dark wizards are bad. Severus Snape was one of many Death Eaters who have defected. They have fought for the light, at the expense of more than just their lives.”

 

\--O-O--

##### Part 3: Recruitment

_Later that day_

 

Kingsley paced the length of the conference room he had been given for this meeting. The speech, although touching on the correct topics, had not been received as well as he had hoped. There were some in the crowd who had understood exactly what he intimated and were not pleased at all. Some had even come up to him and protested forthrightly against the changes he had proposed. In a sense, these people were as prejudiced as the Death Eaters who contributed to the war. This prejudice would eventually kill the whole society.

There was a strange sense of similarity when Kingsley stood in front of a second group of young adults, prepared to present his plan. They too were older than they should be and as adults, they were somehow on a level playing field with him. They were of a generation that he didn’t understand and couldn’t predict. Many here had faced just as much as he had and Kingsley would often think experience was the biggest indicator of age, and in terms of gravitas, they had experienced just as much, if not worse than he had.

“Now you’re all here I need to tell you something,” said Kingsley in a blunt tone. He did not have any energy to gloss over the details like he did for the speech. “As you know, we want to rehabilitate the pureblood families and integrate them back into society.”

“Kingsley,” said Harry, “What does that mean exactly?”

Kingsley had repeated that phrase so often that sometimes even he forgot what it meant. “I want you to publically appear with the Slytherin students in your year. As friends.” He added the last bit when no one started actively protesting straight away.

Ron’s jaw dropped open and a babble of protesting erupted.

“Be friends with them?” cried Hermione incredulously.

“Publically? What for?”

“But Minister-“

“Bloody hell.”

“I don’t mind doing it,” came Luna’s ethereal voice from amidst all the rest.

Kingsley released the mental breath he had been holding and grabbed the only bit of positivity he could. “That’s what we want to hear Luna. Some positivity would be good.

“Listen to my reasoning. You all heard my speech earlier. Tolerance isn’t just from one side, it’s from both. That’s how we’re going to rebuild a community that isn’t going to be at each other throats fifteen years from now. I need you, as the war heroes and heroines to be the saviours of our society and to set an example to the rest of the community.”

Kingsley looked around optimistically, hoping that more than one person would take to the idea.

Hermione looked around to make sure no one else wanted to say something before she began, “Minister, I see your point but to become friends with them? Is that even possible?”

“Only in the public eye. Perhaps not even as friends, but civil at least. We cannot shun then and let them fester in anger.”

They all sat in silence, thinking about the implications of rejecting Kingsley’s proposal.

After a few moments, Hermione said, “Is there no other way?”

“There’s got to be another way,” said Ron, shaking his head. “I see where you’re coming from but this-“

“If you have any other ideas I’m open to them.”

A few minutes later, Harry proposed, “Can they not do community service or something? Why do they have to be involved with us?”

Kingsley sat down and placed his hands on his knees. “I just don’t want them to socialise with only Purebloods and then have children who do the same. That won’t change if they stick to themselves. I’ve asked them to change their values and they agreed.”


	2. Acquaintances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to CleopatraisMyName for doing such a wonderful job of betaing the first two chapters.

**Part 4: The Chosen Two**

_A week later, Tuesday 19th May 1998_

 

The Chosen Two sat opposite each other at a table for two in a Muggle pizza parlour near Diagon Alley. Initially, not knowing what to do for their scheduled time together, they had opted for a walk around the main Wizarding town but the press had hounded them, desperate for the first sighting of a Death Eater after the war, and of course, yet another picture of The Boy Who Lived. Draco claimed it was more because he was in the company of the Saviour than his former Death Eater status, but he still felt uneasy at the negative stares he knew were directed at him.

They eventually retreated into Muggle London when it became clear that the constant camera flashes and lack of topic prevented conversation. Harry suggested getting a pizza when they stopped outside The Leaky Cauldron and Draco agreed happily, not passing up on the opportunity to go somewhere he could be completely anonymous. He rarely got to go into the Muggle world as his parents deemed it too distasteful. They were probably scared of not being treated like royalty in the Muggle world.

After ordering, they sat there in silence for a while once they had exhausted the topics of the weather, Quidditch and pizza toppings. Although the beginning of the meeting had been far from hostile, if not a little strained, they had only touched on small talk and nothing serious. Wanting to take advantage of the lull in conversation, Draco asked, “What do you normally talk about? With Weasel-ley and Granger?” He leaned his elbows on the table, genuinely curious about what the Gryffindors talked about all day. The Slytherins rarely talked as freely as they did and it had intrigued him for a while now. Might as well take the opportunity to ask while the conversation had died and Potter was feeling talkative.

Harry shrugged, ignoring the slight insult to Ron’s name as there were much worse things to hate Malfoy over. It was not something he had ever thought about before; his two best friends were always there for him, he did not need much else. “We don’t really think about making conversation, it just sort of happens. At school, it’s just the normal stuff about homework and lessons and stuff. I guess even from first year we had research to do so we would share what we found with each other. Ever since then we’ve always had something to work towards. Now the war has ended…”

He trailed off, not wanting to admit that he felt a bit like a loose end. Ron had Fred to grieve and Hermione to pursue, while she was busy trying to learn all she had missed the previous year. Despite Professor McGonagall telling them they could reenrol when the school was rebuilt, Hermione insisted she needed to study for the next year in preparation, despite already knowing more highly advanced spells.

The Burrow was the closest thing he had to a home aside from Hogwarts, but with survivors floating around offering to help, the guilt was impossible to escape. It hid in the heavy sighs people issued when they thought no one was around; in the blank looks and the red-rimmed eyes. He had lost his parents, his godfather, his headmaster and his favourite DADA teacher. Mr and Mrs Weasley did their best to fill the absent roles in his life, but he knew they needed space to grieve for Fred.

Draco cleared his throat nervously, “Potter, if I may ask, why did you agree to do this?” He had Potter had never been on the, best of terms let’s say.

The Malfoy Harry had previously seen was guarded and misanthropic, but today he seemed open and genuinely wanting to understand the people he had tormented. When Kingsley first suggested the idea of befriending the Slytherins, he thought it was awful. Seven years of growing up with Slytherins, the insults, all the jinxes and hexes they had thrown at him protested at even the mention of becoming friends. Even now while having a reasonable conversation with one, the whole experience felt surreal. They could exist in a civil public relationship, but never as friends. Even if he redeemed himself as much as Snape did, Harry would never trust him.

The first time Harry had heard of Slytherin house, it was spoken of in admiration from the very boy in front of him. The second: a factory for evil. The third time, he was told that it would take him to greatness, and if he had not been forewarned, he might have just ended up dressed in green. That was the reason he, Harry James Potter, agreed to Kingsley’s absurd plan.

“The first day of school, the day we got sorted, something happened that most people don’t know about. I was almost sorted into Slytherin. It was only because I followed my parents’ footsteps and the advice given to me that I chose Gryffindor. Just like you did really.” Revelations were supposed to make you feel lighter but Harry was doubting that advice.

Draco was stunned. To hear that the Golden boy had almost been sorted into Slytherin changed every opinion he had ever thought about him. The world famous Harry Potter, the Chosen One, could have been one of them. Subjected to prejudice from all teachers except Snape, and most likely expelled by fourth year at least. Shocked by the revelation, he took a swig of his drink, eyes never leaving the boy across from him.

Draco tried to speak but he could not form a coherent sentence. “Wow.” He finally commented.

“Yeah,” agreed Harry, giving Malfoy a nervous smile and laugh.

Thankfully, the pregnant pause was broken by the arrival of their meal, and being hungry boys, they devoured it almost immediately. When it came to paying the bill, Harry insisted that Kingsley had given him money for this exact purpose and did not listen to Malfoy’s protests that he would not live off the Ministry if he could help it. He was still proud enough to want to provide for himself, hence why he lived at the Manor rather than taking the Ministry offered accommodation.

They walked together until they reached a shadowed alleyway to apparate, followed in by the Auror who had been assigned to chaperone them.

Draco faced Harry and said, “It’s been alright Potter, thanks.”

Harry replied with a pat on the shoulder, “Yeah. Just don’t go round telling everyone my secrets; I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” He smiled good-humouredly before nodding, and Apparated away.

“Are you ready to leave Mr Malfoy?” Due to his direct involvement with the Death Eaters, Shacklebolt deemed it prudent to enforce an anti-Apparation binding on Malfoy until he could be trusted. He nodded his confirmation and the Auror Apparated him back to Malfoy Manor.

 

\--O-O--

**Part 5: Housewarming**

_The next day, just before noon, Wednesday 20th May 1998_

 

Ron nervously knocked on the door of the address he had been Apparated to, wishing again that he could be somewhere else. It was the first time he had been to visit the Slytherins in the Accommodation the Ministry had provided them, and even from the entrance the converted office starkly contrasted with the warmth of his own home. He hadn’t wanted to come, but Mrs Weasley had firmly taken him by the arm and walked him out of the house to the Apparation point.

__She regularly brought food over to the Accommodation upon finding out that Daphne had exploded some potatoes because she forgot to poke them. Ever since then, she popped over once a day, sometimes even twice, with food, cookbooks and fresh ingredients. Ron had heard that she had taught Parkinson and Greengrass to make a lasagne that had gone down extremely well and now Zabini wanted to help as well._ _

__The first few times the whole household had to deal with hearing her rants about how even young pureblood witches and wizards should be taught how to cook, and as a result, Ron had been in the kitchen peeling potatoes and carrots all week. He muttered a lot about it being House Elf work which Hermione turned into an opportunity to recruit Mrs Weasley to S.P.E.W._ _

__Today she had sent him over with a medical kit and the ingredients to make spaghetti. Mrs Weasley had tried to convince him to visit earlier by saying he would be better company to the group of teenagers than she would, but he had evaded it up until now. It was not due to Mrs Weasley’s convincing but Harry’s comment that everyone except him had contacted someone and if he did not make an effort with the Slytherins he would not be able to come to the next debriefing with them. It was a low blow and Harry knew it because he whispered to Ron afterwards that he didn’t want his best mate to be kicked off the team._ _

__The teenagers had deliberated over the list of names for almost a week so they could avoid getting in contact. Kingsley got so impatient he assigned them a partner and set a deadline: if they did not get in touch by the end of the week then they could not be part of the Order. The others had all arranged meetings with their charges except Ginny. She had been running errands to the Accommodation and so Mrs Weasley said she could be exempt from individual meetings for now._ _

__Harry had been surprisingly indifferent about his meeting with Malfoy yesterday. He had not said much except that it was weird and Malfoy had not been a prat. He also said it wouldn’t hurt to do what Kingsley said for now. It may not hurt but it was certainly bloody awkward._ _

__Daphne Greengrass was the one to open the door, at first surprised but then she smiled at him unexpectedly. “Oh hello, Ronald. I thought it would be your mum; has she come with you?”_ _

__Ron winced as he replied that she had not, Daphne’s face fell and an awkward silence fell between the two. Ron couldn’t look her in the face with feeling uncomfortable for staring, so he stared at his shoes while Daphne thought of something to say._ _

__“Oh, well you could come in I suppose?” Despite the invitation, she sounded very uncertain and remained standing in the doorway so there was nowhere for Ron to move to._ _

__As much as Ron wanted to decline, he couldn’t just leave because he came here to deliver something and his mum would kill him if he just left. “Here.” Ron shoved the bag out in front of him, trying to prove that he had a reason to come other than just standing in the doorway awkwardly._ _

__Daphne took the bag with thanks and looked at the contents before finally clearing the doorway and placing the bag on the worktop in the kitchen. “You honestly don’t know how lucky you are to have your mum’s cooking every day. She’s the most amazing cook.” She gave him a smile and began putting the food in the fridge and the medicine in the cabinet._ _

__Ron stood for a second in the doorway, not sure what to do now his duty was mostly complete, but Greengrass seemed to want to talk now so he followed her into the living room, stopping just shy of the kitchen. “Yeah, well it sours it a bit when you have to help chop all the vegetables for hours,” grumbled Ron._ _

__“I know,” replied Daphne with her back to him. “I have to make the meals for us now, remember?” She turned around and gave him a pointed stare._ _

__“Um, yeah sorry,” mumbled Ron awkwardly. He stood there for another few minutes while Daphne started the dinner preparations, trying to work up the courage to say something. “Is- is Goyle around?” He winced at the question himself; it sounded so out of place._ _

__Daphne turned around and gave him an inquisitive look. “Greg? Yeah, let me show you his room.”_ _

__He followed her self-consciously through the main living area and down a dim looking corridor. Hermione had told him that it was a converted office and the dull interior displayed it down here._ _

__She stopped with her hand on the doorknob and spun towards him. “Just be,” she paused, trying to think of a better word than ‘gentle’ to use with young hormone driven lads. “…careful with him. He’s still a bit, you know, after,” she finished her sentence with awkward shrugs and left him to find out for himself what she was talking about. He knocked on the door cautiously and opened it after hearing a grunt that he took to be a yes._ _

__“Um, hi,” said Ron. If talking to Greengrass had been awkward, then talking to Goyle was a hundred times worse._ _

__Goyle’s eyebrows creased in a confused expression and Ron felt compelled to explain that he did not just drop by for a girly chat._ _

__“Just dropped off some food. Was told to say hello. I’m off. Bye.” He released his brief sentences in a series of short breaths and then escaped the oppressive room as quickly as he could. Back down the corridor and past the kitchen; he mumbled an awkward goodbye to Greengrass and then left._ _

__If one was not Ronald Weasley and actually possessed more than the emotional range of a teaspoon, then one may have discovered that Gregory Goyle was not as okay as he appeared to be.__

\--O-O--

**Part 6: A Meet of Minds**

_A few hours later, a coffee shop in Diagon Alley, Wednesday 20th May 1998_

 

An outsider may have mistaken them for childhood friends who had changed so much they did not have anything in common anymore. One was perfectly manicured with a made up face and dyed blonde hair falling softly around her face. The other had frizzy brown hair and eye bags under her eyes from the nightmares she had not wanted to relive. A passer-by would not notice that the girl daintily drinking her tea had a smile painted on her face almost as realistic as the dreams she spun to escape from her nightmares.

After fifty seven seconds of uncomfortable tea sipping and frequent glances out of the window, Hermione could not stand the calmness that Daphne possessed. Serene and perfectly poised, she knew when to smile and exactly how to charm certain redheads. Ron had spoken as much as he could about the blonde haired girl in the short time between his meeting with her and Hermione’s, in order to convince everyone that he was being nice to them, but it had irritated Hermione to no end. They had one conversation and now Ronald was acting as if she was the loveliest person in the world.

Obviously irritated, Hermione muttered across the table. “How can you sit there, with a smile on your face like we’re best friends? The cameras know we’re not talking, they’re not stupid.”

The smile on the blonde girl’s face disappeared. “A picture means a thousand words. One shot of us smiling will provide all the conversation we need.”

Hermione was smart enough to know that Daphne was right. For Kingsley’s plan to work, they needed to appear as if they were becoming friends.

“And besides,” continued Daphne, “It wouldn’t kill you to become friends would it?” The Gryffindor girl surprised her; she assumed that by instigating a meeting she wanted to become friends. Granger had always been someone she considered nice and when she received an owl inviting her out for a drink that theory was confirmed. Now that she was actually here, that belief had now changed.

“Alright,” agreed Hermione begrudgingly. It was not that she had anything against Daphne, she just barely knew her.

Hestia Jones had apparated Hermione to a renovated building somewhere in an abandoned part of Diagon Alley to meet Daphne. The eldest Greengrass girl was surprisingly friendly and Hermione chastised herself for judging her on appearances too easily. Ginny had said her younger sister Astoria was a manipulating bitch and Hermione expected Daphne to be the exact same.

Determined to make more of an effort, Hermione smiled and asked, “Who else is at the Accommodation with you?”

She knew from Harry that Malfoy was still at his Manor and Molly had said Parkinson and Zabini were also at the Accommodation, but she did not know who else had forsaken their pride for safety.

“Everyone is at the Accommodation except Tracy, Millie and Draco. He says he wants to stay at home with his mother, but I think he’s just adamant about not taking any help from the Ministry. Pansy’s mother has gone on holiday so she doesn’t want to be alone. Blaise’s mother is either out or she brings her latest husband home and Blaise has to stay out of the way. It’s easier for him here, he’s more relaxed. Greg’s dad is in Azkaban, he doesn’t like going home. Theo,” she faltered and blushed at the mention of his name. Schooling her expression, she continued, “Theo is the same as Greg really.”

Hermione was surprised at how much Daphne had volunteered and at those who simply did not want to go home. She would have thought that family life was important to purebloods. In a way, she was slightly envious that they could escape the atmosphere of home life. At The Burrow, there were simply too many people around who needed her for something or wanted to recount stories about how great the dead were. The moments she could slip to Grimmauld Place were ones of relief.

“Daphne,” the name felt underused on her tongue. “Do you mind if I asked why you chose to stay?” It seemed to Hermione that Daphne was deliberately hiding the reasons for her staying by offering other information to distract her.

“I needed to get away.”

Hermione tilted her head, indicating that her answer was not sufficient.

“My mother was trying to marry me off.” Her tone was final, now shutting down when it came to information about herself.

“To whom?” Hermione pressed further. Daphne had refused to open up about her life to the psychologist and Hermione was desperate to find out more.

“Draco.”

Hermione could not say she was surprised, but she was annoyed that someone so flawed could be considered decent enough to marry. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

Daphne let out a breathy indignant laugh and shook her head pitifully at Hermione. “Of course you would ask. Is it not your job after all? To befriend us and to find out as much information as you can. A perfect job for a nosy little know-it-all like you.”

Hermione felt a twinge of guilt at pushing Daphne into answering like that, but she felt uncomfortable being forced into this by Kingsley and angry at Daphne for insulting her. “At least I value intelligence over looks.” She spat, her voice rising in fury.

“Watch it Granger,” responded Daphne. “Just because people don’t flaunt their intelligence like you do, doesn’t mean they don’t have it.” She kept her tone calm and level so not to attract attention of other people in the café. It would be unwise to reverse the intention of this meeting.

Her composure made Hermione feel like her outburst was foolish and so she tried to mask her rage. “Well then, why do you feel the need to do all of that?” She asked, gesturing at Daphne’s hair and makeup.

“What?” said Daphne genuinely confused. “My hair?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, and your makeup and stuff. It’s all so trivial.” Hermione’s hair would be lucky to be brushed once a week. Such things just did not seem important anymore. Most of the time she allocated herself to get ready in the morning was spent staring blankly in the mirror wondering how something so unchangeable as blood could cause a war that ended up killing children.

Daphne was more than bemused. She had been taught to always take pride in her appearance, not simply to look good, but also to cover what she did not want to reveal. “What’s wrong with taking care with how I look?”

“It’s just after all we’ve been through, appearance isn’t important anymore.” Hermione became blasé in her anger, using superfluous arm movements to expend it.

Daphne knew that the best thing to do in such circumstances was flatter and praise an angry person to take them off the topic. “Hermione, remember the Yule Ball?”

Hermione nodded, not quite knowing where Daphne was going with this.

“Not only were you the most beautiful girl there, you also came in on the arm of the most famous Seeker. Everyone was jealous of you, even the Slytherins.” For the most part, it was true. There were other people there that looked just as pretty, but Hermione really stole the show by coming in with Krum. The bitching that followed lasted for days in every girl’s dormitory.

“I don’t get what you’re trying to say.” Hermione had been thrown by the change of conversation and her anger temporarily dissipated.

It was exactly as Daphne planned. “Hermione, you need to take care of yourself. You’ve got bags under your eyes and your hair looks like a bird’s nest-“

Automatically furious again, Hermione began to stand up, “How can you say-“

“No, listen to me for once,” Daphne interrupted, nodding her head at her to sit down. “You are the golden girl. You’re the one everyone is looking towards as a role model. If people see you breaking down then how can they be expected to cope?” She softened her tone when she saw that Hermione was not taking it well. “I know you have a lot to cope with. And I know you’re not really here for the reasons you say you are.”

“How would you know?” sulked Hermione. No one had tried to reprimand her for not taking care of herself, if anything, they avoided mentioning anything that may upset her.

“I’m not here to hurt you. Enough people have done that already.” She looked at the window and then back at the girl who was far too interested in tealeaves for someone who hated Divination.

Daphne took a deep breath and did something she would never usually do. Extending her hand towards Hermione she said, “I came here today to gain a friend. We all need someone we can trust.”

Hermione eyes were full of wariness but she accepted the hand offered.

“Why do you think I could trust you more than I can trust my friends? Even if I ignore all prejudices, I’ve still known them longer than I’ve known you.” Hermione could not bring herself to trust someone who was in the house associated with lies and deception.

Daphne folded her hands and began, “Because you care about them too much to let them suffer the pain you’re going through as well as their own. Therapy is surprisingly useful, if you are not going to talk to me then at least talk to someone else. You are letting it erode you from the inside.”

Hermione had avoided eye contact for the last few minutes. “How do you know anything about my life? How do you know anything about what I’ve been through? “

“Then tell me. Prove to me that you have a right to appear in public like this. Everything is about appearances Hermione, the sooner you understand that, the better.”


	3. The Daily Prophet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday's Daily Prophet throws a spanner in all Kingsley's plans for advancement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.  
> Huge thanks again to CleopatraisMyName for betaing.

**Part Seven: Pictured and Published**

_The next morning, Thursday 21 st May 1998_

 

“Fuck,” exhaled Blaise, throwing the newspaper down on the table before collapsing on to the sofa. He placed his head in his hand and swore again softly. He mumbled quietly to himself, not knowing what to do now.  
  
“What's up?” asked Theo, grabbing the paper that seemed to be the source of his best mate's troubles. After quickly reading the article, he reassured, "It's bullshit, don't listen to it mate.” He patted Blaise on the shoulder as comfortingly as he could. “They just write to sell a paper, it's never true.”  
  
“That's not it,” said Blaise, his words still muffled by his hands. "The point was to sell us to the public and it’s completely backfired. We were relying on this for an impression of us and it’s given the worst label we could possibly want.”  
  
Theo stood around uncomfortably; hoping Pansy or Daphne would come over and console Blaise. Usually Slytherins kept their emotions under control, even when they were only with each other. Any weaknesses could be reported back to your parents, or worse, the Dark Lord if you were unlucky. Therefore, Theo did not have any practise at consoling mopey Slytherin boys who broke down after reading that their supposed girlfriend was insane.  
  
"Pans?" he called. "I need you to come over here and help Blaise. Loony Lovegood broke his heart." He added to himself quietly, "And I have no fucking clue what to do."  
  
Pansy shut the door behind Draco and re-joined the boys on the sofa.

 

"What's going on?" asked Draco. He was grateful everyone dropped the Slytherin distrust since arriving here but tears took this openness too far. It had only been a few days since he last visited the Accommodation and they were already in a state of disarray. "What's everyone crying about?"  
  
"Don't ask," said Pansy shaking her head. She busied herself with consoling Blaise with hushing noises and by rubbing his back.

  
Theo took matters into his own hands and simply handed Draco the paper, not thinking it was harsh enough to warrant the response Blaise gave it. The blond boy skimmed over it, only briefly glancing at the front cover of pictures.  
  
Without warning, Draco dropped the paper and stormed out of the room. He randomly picked a room at the end of the corridor and disappeared into it, slamming the door shut behind him. He had blocked out most of the evening from shock that Potter had not cursed him on the spot for what he did to Dumbledore. The pictures simply reminded him that the evening brought surprises he never could have expected.

 

Since that evening, pictures of Potter wearing a green tie and green Slytherin robes kept flashing through his head; Potter being his 'friend' for five years, laughing next to him at the Slytherin table. Potter being selected for the Dark Lord's mission; Potter taking the role Draco had been forced into. Potter, who had no family left to threaten as blackmail. Potter, the hero, the one who saved them all.

 

If Potter had been in Slytherin, Draco may not have had to put up with Voldemort’s demands. His family may not have almost been killed in the process of defecting. There was no certainty that the Dark Lord would have selected Potter to be Dumbledore’s killer, but it seemed like the perverted, sadistic thing for him to do. Draco was no longer the naïve eleven year old who believed Slytherin was the best house to be in. If he had known what he knew now, then he wished he had also asked the Sorting Hat to grant him a different future. Damn Potter for always being the lucky one. The logical side of him said that he was too much of a coward to choose anything other than what his father wanted, but it was easier for him to put the blame on Saint Potter to make up for all the times Potter should have been expelled.

 

As Draco lay on Theo’s bed, one final thought slipped across his brain: Potter had taken the choice Draco had never had the chance to take.

 

\--O-O--

**Part Eight: The Prophet**

_Simultaneously, Thursday 21 st May 1998_

 

A collage of pictures graced the front of this morning’s paper: Draco and Harry walking a foot apart from each other; Daphne and Hermione through the restaurant window; Blaise and Luna happily having a picnic. The article that followed was not nearly as nice as the pictures.

 

 

_Pictures have been cropping up of the young war heroes out and about in Diagon Alley with some unusual companions. Are their choices in acquaintances their own or is there something else drawing them towards supporters of You-Know-Who? What must be going through the minds of our beloved idols?_

_Harry Potter was sighted in the main Wizarding town on Tuesday with Draco Malfoy (main picture, front page), a known Death Eater. Perhaps this is a publicity stunt concocted by the Minister to accompany his speech about letting the Death Eaters walk free. Either way, this has not fooled us. What we initially took for awkwardness between Potter and Malfoy may in fact have been resentment on Potter’s part at having to put up with the former Death Eater._

_Alternatively, maybe Potter was interrogating the youngest Malfoy as practise for his Auror training. The blond man remained impassive for much of Potter’s attempts to draw out information - will he join his father in Azkaban? Many people certainly hope so._

_Hermione Granger, the brains of the Golden Trio is featured having a drink with Miss Greengrass, another Slytherin in their year. While some reports mention the girls quarrelling a little, others say the girls seemed like old friends._

_Ronald Weasley is the remaining member of the trio yet to been seen out. Does he disapprove of fraternising with the enemy? The Daily Prophet aims to do an interview with the most rational member of the Golden Trio._

_Also seen out yesterday, was Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw student heavily involved in the war. When interviewed about her date with Mr Zabini, Miss Lovegood replied, “We just talked. You know as people do when they have a meal.”_

 

_When further questioned on the topic of conversation she said, “Oh just normal things. Like Nargles and Heliopaths; he has very interesting opinions on those.”_

 

_Miss Lovegood has been pronounced sane by the official Ministry psychologist, the same psychologist who has checked out the Young Death Eaters (YDE). Does this mean the safety of our society is compromised by the presence of possibly harmful Death Eaters?_

 

 

Kingsley paced the length of his office furiously, screwing up the rest of the _Daily Prophet_ after ripping out the article. This was not the way it was supposed to happen. Yesterday’s _Prophet_ had been passable; there were a few pictures of Draco and Harry in Diagon Alley together accompanied with a couple of spiteful comments, but nothing too severe. It was progress at least, and this was what they hoped would continue. If people saw Harry befriending Malfoy then they were more likely to be tolerant of him. Appearances were everything, even if they were based in tenuous truths. That had all been destroyed today by a few lines in the national paper.

 

This morning’s article was simply poisonous. To condemn the children as future war starters ruined any progress they had gained the day before. He could not blame it on Luna, but he wished her words would not be distorted by people who did not understand the blonde girl. Her head existed in planes that even most wizards and witches could not see, and even though most thought her insane, she had survived more than her fair share of trauma.

 

McGonagall marched into the room, her robes swishing around her has she entered. “Have you seen the paper?” At Kingsley’s nod, McGonagall sunk down into the chair in front of his desk and stared at the torn out article. “How could they talk about my students in that way? Whoever wrote that article should go to Azkaban themselves for the amount of poison in their heart!” McGonagall sighed, “What are we going to do Kingsley?”

 

“We have to keep going. We have to show them that they are not like that. I’ll go to the Burrow and talk to the kids about it.”

 

He walked over to the fireplace and disappeared in a swirl of green flames.

 

Appearing at the Burrow, he called out for Mrs Weasley, who rushed into the kitchen almost instantly.

 

“Oh it’s you Kingsley,” she said, placing a flustered hand over her heart. “I heard the Floo activate and became worried, we weren’t expecting any visitors. Is something wrong?” She instinctively glanced towards the clock detailing the locations of her family, so used to checking it to reassure their safety.

 

Kingsley nodded, but followed with something slightly ambiguous, “No one is injured but there are some people in danger. Have you received the _Daily Prophet_ yet?”

 

“Not yet, Errol is getting old and is even more unreliable at bringing the post, we really need to look at getting a new post owl.”

 

Kingsley offered the paper to Mrs Weasley and ushered her inside the living room. “Then I might as well discuss it with you all together.”

 

\--O-O--

 

“… _compromised by the presence of possibly harmful Death Eaters?”_ finished Hermione, enunciating the last line of the article. “That is disgusting.” She exclaimed, handing the offensive thing back to Kingsley. “Most of them aren’t even Death Eaters anyway.” She grimaced at Ginny who gave an equally sour look back. They may not like Slytherins, but at least they had understood the consequences to the next Wizarding generation if there was a divide.

 

“That is exactly my point. If you could continue seeing them, it may prove to the public that these children have reformed. Perhaps some sort of group meeting? It doesn’t have to be in a Wizarding location, Muggle London is fine. We can send a photographer with you.” He smiled at the kids hopefully.

 

Luna nodded happily and Hermione reluctantly nodded as well. Her stubbornness refused to let her avoid meeting Daphne and she felt she had something to prove to the perfectly made up blonde girl.

 

“Bowling?” suggested Harry. He had gone once before with Hermione and her parents and it was a brilliant icebreaker for meeting people you did not know very well.

 

“Perfect. I’ll leave it to you to arrange it and then get back to me with the time and date. Make it soon.”

 

Harry nodded in confirmation for them all and Kingsley felt slightly reassured that they had a plan of action to combat the newspaper’s bad news.

 

“Ron, can I have a quick word please?” asked the Minister, leaving the room.

 

Ron looked back at Harry and Hermione who shrugged at his unasked question. All three followed him out of the room, unsure of what he wanted.

 

Kingsley looked a bit surprised at seeing Harry and Hermione as well but continued regardless, “Ron, you are the only one who hasn’t arranged to meet anyone yet. I would like it if you made more effort.” The article pointing out the absence of Ron had made it even more important that he befriend a Slytherin.

 

“I have,” grumbled Ron. “I went to see Goyle like you said to.”

 

Kingsley frowned, “Did you bridge the gap between you?” It was common knowledge that Crabbe and Goyle were not particularly liked, which was why he wanted to reach out to them now, especially as Crabbe had died.

 

“I tried to but he didn’t want to talk to me much, maybe it’s best that I see somebody else.” said Ron honestly, hoping that he would not have to talk to Goyle from now on.

 

“Ronald Weasley, you didn’t even mention to me that you spoke to Greg,” interrupted Mrs Weasley, on her way through the corridor from the kitchen. She gave him the stern mother look that instantly made him feel guilty. “I thought it was Daphne you were paired up with by the way you talk about her.”

 

Completely unnoticed by Ron, Hermione tensed up at the mention of Daphne. Although her head was not in the right space to think about relationships, it still hurt to hear him talk so much about another girl, especially another blonde girl. He only seemed to be interested in blonde girls, not brunettes.

 

Kingsley seemed slightly annoyed at Ron’s sheepish look, realising he probably had not tried as hard as he should have. As much as Kingsley hated to pressurise the children into befriending the Slytherins, they were now cornered by the reaction from the newspaper. If they stopped seeing them, then the _Prophet_ would twist it so it seemed they were responding to the article by avoiding the ‘Young Death Eaters’. He couldn’t allow them to become isolated any further, it would defeat the purpose of this entire plan. Gritting his teeth, Kingsley said, “My condition still stands Mr Weasley. Goodbye.”

 

\--O-O--

 

**Part Nine: A Clash of Brawn**

_Afternoon, Thursday 21 st May 1998_

"Oh, hi Daphne," greeted Ron cheerily. Yesterday's successful conversation led him to believe that perhaps Slytherins were not so bad, as long as they were pretty, blonde girls by the name of Daphne. By emphasising the successes of the conversation to his mother, he had deluded himself that he was as smooth talking as McGonagall's spell casting. He handed Daphne the food bag and followed her into the kitchen, surprising her when his voice was closer than she realised.

 

"So Daphne, do you want to go bowling tomorrow night?" The question came out a lot less smoothly than it had been rehearsed. Kingsley’s idea of a group outing took the pressure off individual meetings and would hopefully be a lot less uncomfortable as well. “As a group I mean,” he hastily rectified when Daphne’s face creased in confusion.

 

“Yeah sure.” Ron was slightly miffed that Daphne was not more enthusiastic about the trip. Once Harry and Hermione had explained what it was he thought it sounded brilliant. “You do know what it is right? It’s just that Her- Harry had to explain it to me, but it’s really easy, don’t worry.” For some reason, he felt uncomfortable about mentioning Hermione’s name in front of Daphne. It reminded him that he should not be flirting with another girl when he claimed his heart belonged to another.

 

“Yes Ronald, I know what bowling is. I did take Muggle Studies.” Her voice was bordering on patronising, but as with most people, she tried to hide it while among people of lesser intelligence.

 

“You did what?” Ron was shocked. Quite a few purebloods took Muggle Studies to learn more about them, but to hear a Slytherin pureblood take it was unthinkable. “Why?”

 

Daphne shrugged. “Know thy enemy,” she quoted disparagingly, using her fingers as quotation marks. She gave that excuse to her parents when she wanted to find out more about a world that could get in touch with each other at anytime, anywhere. Muggle customs fascinated her; the ideals of the upper class Victorians were similar to those of the Pureblood society, yet the time periods were discordant. She knew that the wizards and witches probably carried down the traditions, but that was what the Wizarding folk were, stuck in beliefs that were archaic and baseless.

 

“Anyway,” she continued, “What time do we need to be ready tomorrow evening? And we will have to wear muggle clothes right? Anything specific? I’m not sure if the boys have appropriate clothing.” They wore Muggle clothing sometimes but Daphne was not sure if what they had was appropriate for a social gathering.

 

“I’m not sure.” Ron replied. “I have jeans and stuff but I don’t know whether you have them?” Despite both being Purebloods, their customs were very different. Mrs Weasley had no issues with taking her children to Gladrags to buy Muggle clothing. If anything, it helped them dress correctly when they had to go to Muggle areas.

 

Daphne pursed her lips. “If we need them then it would be good to get out of here and buy some. But I’m not sure if we’ll be able to go tomorrow and go bowling as well.” It was having time to make and eat dinner that she was thinking of. Having House Elves provide you with every meal meant the extra responsibility was always at the forefront of her mind, lest she forget about it. It was strange being hungry all the time and then taking an hour to make a half edible meal that tasted bland and nothing like the seasoned dishes she was used to at home. Daphne sometimes regretted the decision to move out of her family home with all its comforts and luxuries, but a brief recollection of the arguments with her mother soon had her rectifying that thought. Her mother was highly insistent she marry Draco, despite Daphne’s young age and protests that marrying into the Malfoy family now would do nothing to mitigate their status as a snotty Pureblood family. Of course her mother would be perfectly fine with that, but if they were going to force her into a marriage with a Pureblood family, why couldn’t she choose? There were plenty of wealthy, Pureblooded bachelors around.

 

“If the timing is flexible…” Daphne had no idea who was in charge of planning all this. So far all meetings had been arranged without her knowledge and she wasn’t aware if there as a higher power dictating their meetings like an author writing a novel. It would all be very diplomatic if they were not kids who had nothing to lose any more.

 

Ron scratched his head. “Um, sure, Saturday?” Kingsley said soon so he opted for tomorrow, but two days away still counted as soon, didn’t it? “Could you tell the rest? As it’s a -“ Ron coughed. “- group thing.”

 

Daphne nodded and then had a better idea. “Do you want to tell Greg yourself? Everyone’s out but he’s still here.” Greg had not come out of his room except for food and going to the bathroom and the others were worried about him quite a bit. Out of all of them, he was taking it the worst. Ron was not the most tactful of people, but it would do Greg some good to see a different face.

 

Ron nodded reluctantly and allowed Daphne to lead him to Goyle’s room again. She gave him a positive smile and then left him alone to face the awkwardness of yesterday. If he had not already given his word to Kingsley, his mum and Daphne, then he might have just run back to the Burrow.

 

“Goyle?” he asked, pushing open the door. The bed was unmade and the blinds were still shut. There were a couple of empty, unwashed mugs on the windowsill and Ron could not help but feel disgusted at the obvious neglect. Even for a teenage boy his room was shocking.

 

“Mate, you need to clear up this mess. You can’t live like this.” Ron shook his head pitifully and gestured to the piles of dirty clothes.

 

“What do you want?” asked Goyle bluntly, not moving from his position on the floor.

 

“I just came to ask if you wanted to come bowling with all of us tomo- on Saturday.”

 

Goyle did not respond so Ron assumed he did not understand what bowling was and proceeded to describe it. "It's a muggle game," explained Ron in a slow patronising voice. "You throw a ball towards ten white pins. You've got to knock them all over."

 

Greg raised his head to look at Ron, who was now miming how to bowl. After shaking his head apathetically he said, "I don’t care.”

 

Ron straightened up, feeling slightly annoyed and embarrassed. “Come mate, it’s really easy.” Ron was trying, he really was. In a way, he pitied Goyle for losing his best friend. The times he wasn’t with Harry were truly the low points of his life.

 

“Piss off.” It was lowly and hardly worthy of an insult.

 

Ron’s pity intensified, but there was only so much encouragement you could give to someone you disliked for seven years. “It’ll be fun.” His words, although well-meaning, were falsely cheerful and Goyle didn’t respond to them. Ron was tempted to leave it there, but Goyle just looked so pathetic on the floor by himself, that Ron would feel guilty if he left without a thought. He crouched down and said, “Are you okay, mate?” He was trying to treat Goyle like a stranger; it would be easier to help him that way.

 

After a few minutes, Goyle finally raised his head and said, “I’m not your mate.” His mate was Vincent and he was never coming back.

 

—O-O—

 

**Part Ten: Those Green Eyes**

 

_The next day, Ministry of Magic, Friday 22 nd May 1998_

 

 

This interview room was smaller than the first one Kingsley had interviewed Draco Malfoy in and the circumstances just as different. Malfoy was due for interviews about that night on the Astronomy Tower and rather than protesting as may be expected, he willingly offered information about the attack, up until the point Shacklebolt mentioned confirming the story with Harry.

 

Potter was still a sore point for Draco and the constant reminders of his godliness only intensified that hate. He could not bear through another meeting with Potter, not after his Slytherin revelation.

 

Shacklebolt was packing away his files, smiling to himself as he did so, showing the meeting was coming to an end. Draco would have to speak now if at all. “Minister, if I may ask, would I be able to change partners?”

 

Kingsley stopped his shuffling and looked up. “What do you mean?”

 

“From Potter I mean,” Draco clarified.

 

“Is there a problem?” Harry seemed neutral about it.

 

“Not a problem exactly, more-“ Draco tried to think up a valid excuse. “I think I would be better suited to:” Weasley? Never. Blaise seemed happy with Luna and she was a bit eccentric for Draco’s tastes. Granger was out of the question. He had paused too much to make it seem plausible. “Longbottom,” he finished unevenly. Why not? He beat Potter for sure.

 

Kingsley looked doubtful but agreed nonetheless. “I’ll see what I can do Mr Malfoy, but Mr Longbottom is busier than you realise.” He wanted it to be Neville’s choice as he had persuaded them into this so he wasn’t going to promise Malfoy a guarantee. 


End file.
